It is January 1st, 2010 and I feel the winter muse stirring…
Snow and rain have fallen this past week in Metro Portland, and the holiday lights still sparkle over the river…A full moon greets the ending of the old year, and everywhere are whispers of paranormal lust and attraction.
And speaking of…in our last paranormal post, we left Annette walking with the Vampire in Mt. Tabor Park. Here is the next edition of their otherwordly attraction…
They walked slowly towards the tall stone statue at the curve of the path. He asked her questions about her life, what did she do and what kinds of things interested her? Somehow his low voice turned beguiling and interested, and pulled answers from her when she never intended to reveal so much. They shuffled to a stop and he turned to look at her, a slight smile on his compelling face. “You amuse me,” he said, and lifted a hand, pushing back a stray hair off her forehead. “It has been a very long time since anything in this world made any difference to me at all.”
“What do you mean by that?” Annette’s cheeks were cold, and a slight drizzle had started again.
Instead of answering, he leaned closer, his face inches from hers, his breath warm and spicy across her chilly face. Like a dream, she couldn’t move. She didn’t want to move. Unbidden, her hands grasped the lapels of his overcoat, pulling him imperceptibly closer. Her heart pounded and her lips tingled – she lifted her eyes and met molten gold.
“I want to kiss you,” he said. “Will you be afraid if I do?”
‘No,” she breathed, and let him closer still, until hot and soft, his lips met hers, and licking the seam of her mouth, urged her to open, shocking her with the sudden thrust of his tongue; yet she met him, opening fully, tasting the spice and heat of him like nothing she’d ever known. How long they stood like this she didn’t know, didn’t care. Suppressed, forgotten erotic longings sizzled up her backbone, between her legs, the tips of her breasts aching for the touch of his mouth…
He pulled her tight against him, his strong arms across her back, his mouth slanted just so, kissing kissing her until she felt almost mad with wanting him…. With a low gasp, he finally pulled away, and rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing hard. He gave a soft laugh. “This is so very unusual for me, I assure you.” His eyes had gone back to dark, the molten gold retreating as they each caught their breath. “My usual inclinations are not quite…” he hesitated. “I am, most often, a Queer Gentleman. It is not the female of the species that tend to attract one of my kind.”
What? What did he mean by that? Annette stumbled back, suddenly confused and extremely self conscious. He was a “Queer Gentleman?”